Duke of Wicked Intentions by Harriet Caves
Chapter Six
“There has to be another solution. Something that doesn’t trap you for the rest of your life to a woman who wants nothing to do with you.”
Benedict shot a look toward his friend and shook his head. “There isn’t a better solution, and we both know it. This is how it has to be if I wish to protect her.”
The two men were holed up in Benedict’s study, a room he hadn’t left very often since the night of Lord Henley’s ball. Mortimer had been his near-constant companion as they’d tried to figure out a way to fix the mess Benedict found himself in. No matter how hard they tried, however, no idea they came up with was better than marriage. It was, in Benedict’s mind, the only way to truly protect Miranda from total ruin.
Mortimer crossed his arms and arched an incredulous brow. “But why would you want to protect her? After what she did to you, wouldn’t you want to leave her to suffer in this way?”
Benedict felt a spike of irritation at the question. “Do you think I’m so petty that I would ruin a lady’s reputation, likely taking away all her prospects for the future, and then just walk away from her?”
“I don’t believe that, no,” Mortimer replied calmly. “In most cases, I would wholeheartedly agree that marriage is your only real course of action. However, this is not most cases. This is Lady Miranda Colfield we’re speaking of. The woman who broke your heart and made you the bitter, callous man you are today. Does she really deserve your compassion in this?”
“I know you are saying these things because you care for me, My Friend,” Benedict said, keeping tight hold of his patience. “But whether she truly deserves it or not, it’s not just about Lady Miranda herself. This could cause trouble for her family, and her father was nothing but kind and courteous to me when we were children. He doesn’t deserve the shame that would come from his only daughter’s ruin. Just as my mother doesn’t deserve the shame of her son not taking responsibility for his mistake.”
Mortimer sighed, but nodded. “Yes, I suppose that all makes sense. Not that I like the thought of you with that woman any more than before, but…marrying her would be the right thing to do all around. Goodness, Benedict. How did you get yourself in this predicament in the first place?”
That was a harder question to answer than Benedict cared to admit. When he’d seen Miranda standing there in the moonlight, her green eyes flashing with fury, he hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d needed a taste of her. To feel that passion he could see brimming through her contained within his grip. He hadn’t lied, either, when he’d said he’d always wanted to do that to her.
What he hadn’t expected, however, was to enjoy the kiss quite as much as he had. He had imagined kissing her like that and then leaving her wanting as a small type of petty revenge. Once he’d started, though, he hadn’t been able to stop himself. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if he’d have stopped when they’d been discovered if she hadn’t pushed him away.
It was disconcerting, and yet fascinating to him all at once. That wasn’t the reason he was doing this, however. He wasn’t going to marry Miranda because of a single kiss. He was going to marry her because he truly believed it the only way to protect her from scandal.
Though I will most likely make a terrible husband, and she will no doubt hate me for doing this.
He decided it didn’t matter if she hated him. This was for the best, and she’d probably come to see that someday.
“When do you intend to approach Lady Miranda about your solution?” Mortimer asked him.
“Today,” Benedict answered, his stomach twisting with anxiety at the thought.
Mortimer’s eyebrows shot up. “Not wasting any time I see.”
Benedict shook his head. “No. I want to get this business settled and over with as soon as possible. Let the gossip rags run their stories and then we can move past this whole unfortunate situation.”
“Do you think she’ll accept your proposal?”
Benedict shrugged. “It’s not as though she’ll have much of a choice. I’m sure her father will be relieved that I’m willing to step up and take her. If she is resistant to the idea, he’ll likely be able to convince her otherwise.”
To his surprise and annoyance, Mortimer chuckled.
“What is so funny?” Benedict demanded to know.
Mortimer’s grin was mischievous. “You really think it will be so easy to convince the lady to accept you as her husband? From everything you’ve told me of her, she is rather headstrong and independent in her outlook on life. She might not be so willing to give that up for a man she has proven not to have any tender feelings for.”
Benedict didn’t like how bothered by his friend’s words he was. How was Mortimer to know if Miranda held any affection for him or not? Of course, when she’d sent him that letter, she’d made it rather clear that she didn’t care for him as he’d thought she had. Still, Mortimer didn’t know her mind. Didn’t know if there were any lingering feelings in her heart–
Wait…why do I care so much? I don’t. She may like me or dislike me as she pleases. That will not affect the inevitability of our marriage.
“Lady Miranda is a practical woman,” Benedict insisted. “She’ll see the sense of this arrangement and understand that it’s for the best.”
“Do you intend for it to be a true marriage?” Mortimer asked.
A question Benedict had actually thought quite a bit about.
“No,” he said almost without hesitation. “This will be a marriage of convenience so that her reputation can be secured. Nothing more.”
Mortimer looked surprised by this. “Huh. I would have never thought you would marry without the expected intimacies. Don’t tell me you intend to live as a celibate.”
Benedict narrowed his eyes at his friend and scoffed. “Hardly. I will not be the first husband to seek the comforts of other women in his marriage, and I will hardly be the last.”
“I see,” Mortimer nodded. “Well, it seems as though you have everything quite figured out, don’t you?”
“I suppose I do,” Benedict replied, though he felt an odd stab of guilt that he quickly pushed away.
Before either man could say more, there was a sudden knock on his door. Benedict frowned. The door was locked, so whoever stood on the other side couldn’t get in, no matter how hard they jiggled the doorknob.
“Who is it?” he called.
“Do not treat me like one of the servants, Benedict. You will open this door right this moment.”
Benedict released a heavy groan. Pushing to his feet, he made his way around the desk and crossed the room to the door. Unlocking it, he threw it opened and met his mother’s angry glare.
“Good day, Mother. How can I help you?” His tone was pleasant, but there was a bite to it that he didn’t bother to hide.
She pushed past him into the room before she turned to him to ask, “What are your intentions with the Colfield girl?”
Benedict was surprised that his mother would speak so disrespectfully of another member of the ton.
“Do you mean Lady Miranda, Mother?”
“You know exactly who I’m talking about,” she hissed, placing her hands on her hips. “That insufferable harlot that strung you along for years and then trapped you again at Lord Henley’s ball.”
“Careful, Mother,” he said in a low voice. “You don’t want someone to accuse you of being rude.”
“As if I care if anyone believes me rude.”
Benedict knew that was far from the truth, but she was putting on a good show.
“Well, I’m glad that you don’t feel dragged down by the requirements of society around you, Mother,” he told her dryly. “Now, what was your question again?”
Her face flushed with anger. “What are your intentions with Lady Miranda Colfield?”
“Why is that any business of yours?”
Her nostrils flared with irritation. “It is my business because I am your mother, and until you find a wife to replace me, the mistress of your Estates. I should be included in on any decisions regarding you.”
Benedict didn’t point out the rather insulting fact that she lumped him together with his wealth and lands, as if the two were of equal importance in her mind. They likely were, but he wouldn’t be surprised if the Estate of the Dukedom was slightly higher in priority for her than he was.
“If you must know, Mother, I intend to marry her,” he said, deciding it was just easier to confess all to her so she could have her fit and then move on from the issue.
To his shock, she appeared absolutely outraged by his words.
“No!” she exclaimed, shaking her head hard. “I will not allow it.”
Benedict furrowed his brow. “What do you mean you will not allow it? It isn’t your decision to make.”
“After the humiliation she forced upon you, letting her suffer the fate of a ruined reputation would be the perfect revenge,” his mother declared.
Benedict wasn’t certain to what his mother was referring. The kiss at Lord Henley’s ball, or the letter Miranda had sent him when he first went to Europe? Either would give the Dowager reason to dislike the lady and oppose the match. However, her presumption that she could forbid him from making this choice himself grated on his nerves.
“Need I remind you, Mother, that I am now the Duke, and as such, the one who makes the ultimate decisions regarding my life? You may voice your opinion, but you cannot order me to do anything. You cannot forbid me, nor force me into a decision you prefer. I am the one who has decided this, and you will not sway me from it.”
His mother’s jaw dropped open a bit, no doubt at the shock of being put in her place.
“This seems like a family dispute,” Mortimer suddenly cut in, making quickly toward the door. “I shall see you later, Benedict, and I’ll expect a full retelling of your proposal to Lady Miranda.”
Benedict nodded and waved toward his friend, but his eyes remained on his mother.
“Do you have anything else you wish to say, Mother?” he asked her in a cool tone.
“You are making a grave mistake,” she snapped. “That woman will make you miserable. She is no good for you, and you should be with someone who would help your rank, not diminish it.”
“Lady Miranda is the daughter of an Earl. She would hardly diminish my ranking as Duke.”
His mother’s face was flushed and she was clearly on the verge of losing her temper. Benedict waited patiently for it to happen, knowing it was only a matter of time and all that could really be done was to endure it until it blew over. Within moments, she exploded.
“How dare you act as though I am nobody now that I am the Dowager rather than the fully-fledged Duchess,” she raged. “I still deserve a say in things! Lady Miranda is not worthy of taking my former title, and I do not want her as part of this family!”
“That’s enough!” Benedict roared, losing his patience completely. “Mother, you will mind yourself when speaking to me. I am the Duke, and if I so chose, I could send you far away from here to live out the remainder of your days. So I suggest you mind your tongue and accept the fact that I have made the decision to marry Lady Miranda Colfield, because nothing you say will stop me from moving forward now.”
His mother appeared stunned. She stared up at him, the color draining from her face.
“You…you would send me away?” she stammered.
“Do not give me reason to,” was Benedict’s only answer.
He could tell his mother wanted to say something more. To snap back or to plead her case perhaps. In the end, though, she pressed her lips together into a tight line, and though her gaze was furious and he knew she wanted to fight him more on this, but she kept her tongue leashed.
Glancing toward Mortimer, Benedict said, “I should go and take care of this now. Would you mind terribly staying for a bit after I leave just to assure Mother doesn’t try to follow?”
“Benedict!” his mother exclaimed in an offended tone.
He didn’t look at her.
Mortimer, quite familiar with the icy relationship between mother and son and the antics of the Dowager, nodded. “I can do that, yes.”
Benedict thanked him, then turned back to his mother. “I am going to go ask for Lady Miranda’s hand, Mother. This is happening, so you had best make peace with it.”
“This is a mistake, Benedict,” she replied in a low, angry voice.
“Then it will be one among many in my life,” he told her before turning for the door. Without a backward glance, he marched out the study, his mind already focusing in on the task of convincing Miranda to be his wife.
